Friday, August 31, 2012

Canada--Wednesday In the Woods

Lake Ontario—August, 2012

I had time the next day to head back to the dog walk/conservation area.  Two cars were in the lot.  I read for a bit, then decided to walk around and see if there was any “trouble” to get into…

 I walk away from the lake, across the expanse of sun parched field and into the new growth of trees.  As I round the first corner, there they are:  two men and a Boston terrier.  Just talking.  I smile and nod and continue on down the trail.  The man doing all the talking I recognize from previous years here.  He is older than I, short and balding, with quite a few extra pounds.   He loves to talk and tell stories—stories that ramble until he has lost track of why he is telling that particular tale.  I love the look of the other guy:   he’s taller than me, thin, with a promising bulge in his track shorts.  He’s in great shape for being in his late 60’s.  He tosses a stick for his dog to chase as I amble on down the brambled path. 
I give them a little time—then make a U-turn and head back.  I duck under a low branch—and there they are.  The short guy is on his knees, sucking the very large cock of the tall, grey haired gentleman.  The dog is scampering around, licking at the big guy’s crotch, as Daddy gets head.  They wave me over to join them.  I unzip.  I pull out my growing cock.  The large guy goes from one to the other.  It feels good, but I’m not fully hard.  My mouth is on Daddy’s nipple.  My hand is on Daddy’s hairless, totally smooth ass.

I know what I want.  I kneel behind those long, long legs.  I pull apart his ass cheeks and begin licking.  He looks at me over his shoulder.  Then he bends over, surrendering to my invading tongue. His cock pulls out of the Talker’s mouth—Daddy doesn’t care—he just leans on his former cock sucker’s shoulders.  I feel a hot tongue on my balls.  There is no way the fat guy could bend that far over…
Nope, it’s the dog.

Damn, he’s good, too.

I shoo him away, but he’s back instantly.  I ignore him and spread his cheeks apart with my hands.  His hole tastes great, salty and moist. 
Then the cock sucker starts talking.  He goes on and on about another cruise place, and it deflates both our cocks.  The dog starts barking—warning us of approaching dog walkers.  We clothe ourselves in plenty of time.  The terrier scoots away to welcome a standard poodle.

We try to wait out the intruders, but they are playing catch right by the entrance to the path .  No more sex for now.
“I remember you,” says the talker.  “We had a long talk last year.”   And then he proceeds to resurrect the entire conversation.

I nod.  And nod.
“I remember your tongue,” says the tall man.  “You rimmed and fucked me at the bathhouse in Fort Erie.”

I smile and nod, not remembering him at all. 
But now I write a blog. 

And I think I will.
I promise that I’ve never had the dog before…

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Canada--Tuesday in the Park

Lake Ontario—August, 2012
I have been coming to this sleepy town in Canada for many years.  It took me the first 10 years to track down the cruising area.  I’d found a park in the downtown instantly.  I had eyed guys going into the men’s room and been cruised while sitting on a park bench, but I swore my old Damron Guide Book was wrong—this couldn’t be the real cruising ground.  It was just a too crowded and too family oriented an area.  About seven years ago, on an impulse, I took a side road before I got downtown.  I don’t know why.  It led to a conservation area.  Dog walkers and fags.  Many times they were one and the same.  I was in a cocksucker’s paradise. 

I park.  I read.  I look at the view.  Lake Ontario is choppy today.  But the sky is very blue.  It’s so clear that I can see Toronto across the water—90 miles away.  It’s a quiet morning.  A straight couple is my only company as they walk their three dogs.  They soon get in their black Land Rover and leave. 
I walk to the cliff edge.  There is major erosion here.  One of the huge trees has toppled onto the beach below since I was here last year.  I hear a car on the gravel.  A lone man.  He parks next to my car and gets out.  He’s sixty-ish, in shorts and a rather loud shirt.  He sees me.  His hand brushes his crotch, quite by accident of course, as he tucks his shirt into shorts.  I stick my hands in the pockets of my pants and amble towards the woods.

He follows.  I stop and look at the view.  He stops to tie his shoe.  I move towards a hidden path to get us out of the main park.  He stops and checks the parking lot for other cars.  I step over the remains of the rusty fence.  He stops to admire the view.  And touches himself.  He notes where I am going.  I head down the path, high weeds surrounding me.  I make it to a huge old maple tree.  And wait. 
He takes his time.  But he’s ready.  When he rounds the bend, he is holding a very hard cock under his shorts.  I grasp mine through the fabric of my pants—outlining the length and girth of it.  He takes his out.  Uncut with a fiery red head.  He peels it back.  He looks at me.  Almost pleading.  I’ve made him be bold.  I walk down the slight slope towards him, crunching through the brittle leaves.

“You want that sucked?”
He nods.  I sink down on my haunches.  I take his cock out of his hand, letting the head retract under all that skin.  My tongue snakes out.  I touch the wrinkled end.  A single drop of precum.  I lick it away.   I suck him into my mouth.  My tongue works under the foreskin.  My hand goes up to help peel it all pack.  He sighs as it’s exposed in my mouth and my tongue laps gently at it.

I suck harder. 
He goes as far as to fuck my face a little.

The squirrels are making noise in the brush around us.  It makes him nervous.

“Show me yours.”
I get up and undo my belt and zipper.

He touches me tentatively. 

The contact makes his cock jump.

He strokes me, but makes no move to suck me.

I sink to my knees.  I want his cum. 
I suck some more.

“I can’t get off here.”  He pats my head.  “I’m too nervous.”  He gets his cock back in his pants.  “There’s a car.”  I hear it coming down the gravel.  I look in that direction—it’s impossible to see it from where we are hidden.
When I turn back to him, he’s gone.  I watch him step over the rusty fence.  I wait a bit, rearrange the package, and amble back to my book.




Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Canada--Monday at The Cellar

Toronto—August, 2012

I woke up at Steamworks at about 3:30am.  Horny.  Still.  I scouted the halls.  Nothing.  I was due to leave in an hour anyway and decided not to renew as I needed some better sleep.  I walked the streets of Toronto back to my car, curled up in the front seat of my Ford Focus, long legs up on the passenger side of the dashboard and slept until breakfast called…

Later, I saw a fuck-bud/friend (who I’ll be meeting for sex later on in the week) for a quick coffee.  I told him I was off to go pitch my tent at my final destination, but I lied to him.  Oh, I did have the tent up by 6:00pm….but I stopped in for the Nooner at The Cellar before I left town.  From noon to 1pm it is a cheap, cheap price to get guys in on their lunch hour.  I remember lines out the door as we all queued up to get in right at the top of the hour.  It was 12:45 now, so I was hoping the men were all in and ready…

My cock jumps as I hug my friend goodbye.  I’d do him right now if he had time.  He goes off to his bank.  I go half a block in the other direction and through the black door with no sign.  I am buzzed in.  I have a choice of gloryholed rooms to rent.  Not a good sign.  This bathhouse is truly a cellar, with rooms laid out in a sort of figure eight pattern.  I walk past a huge projection TV showing porn.  Most of the doors to the rooms now have a gloryhole (with a locked cover) in them I notice.  They are all shut.  I pass a partitioned area also with sizable holes.  But here, the main action seems to happen in the back hallway where it is always pitch black.   I find room “N” easily.  I shed my clothes quickly and walk back out in my jock and boots.  No one is in a room.  Well, except for the guy who is never touched the entire time I’m there.  Everyone is in the back hallway.  I move through the hall easily.  Not good.  Maybe six or eight guys.  A couple of years ago, it would have been so crowded I could not have gotten more than a few steps into the mass of fondling flesh.

I’m disappointed.  But it’s not about numbers.  It’s about finding the right guys. 

I want to suck some cock.  I hadn’t sucked any dick at Steamworks.  Yeah, I’d cleaned some off after they had been in someone’s hole—but it’s not the same.  I had been totally focused on ass.  Now I wanted that explosion of  cum going down my throat. 

A hand snakes out.  He grabs my dick.  He pulls it towards the back wall where he in kneeling, but I can’t see him.  He sucks.  It is ok, but not great head.  More hands appear out of the gloom and tweak my nips.  A tongue goes in my ear.  A hard cock is against my ass crack.  My sucker rises when he gets me hard.  He tugs me towards the entrance.  “Come fuck me.”

I shake my head and move away into the darkness. 

I find a broad furry chest.  With those huge, eraser sized nipples.  My mouth goes right to them.  Eventually I kneel and find a slightly curved cock.  He’s cut, with a very small head, but it keeps widening into a thick base.  I take it all down my throat.  Eventually he pulls out of my mouth and tells me just to use my hands on the head.  I do.  I work far too long.  He moves away. 

A pair of massive thighs replaces him.  I start to rise and he pushes me down.  This guy is hung.  With a dripping foreskin.  I suck.  And suck.  I work my tongue under his helmeted dick head.  I pull it back, swab it and pull the skin back over it.  I nibble it.  I suck him to the root.  Soon he is beating his cock off into my mouth, brushing the loose skin on my lips and beard.  I desperately want him to cum.  He works it.  And then beats it some more. 

He turns away to make room for a new comer.  This guy sticks his cock in my mouth and blows a thick load in two strokes.  I know nothing about what he looks like.  But he tasted great.

The beater is back.  In my mouth.  Rubbing the foreskin on my beard.  On my nose.  On my cheek.  Back to my mouth.  He’s now really dripping.  But he can’t, or won’t, shoot.

I finally have to get off my knees.  I sit on a bench and watch the porn.  I get some head from a decidedly older man.  At least I can see him.  He’s good.  But I need cock in my mouth.  I head back to the dark hallway.  No one.

I wander, pausing at the gloryhole partitions.  There he is.  The beater.  I step towards him—he can’t beat through a hole.  I suck him hard—and for quite a bit longer before he returns to the beating routine. 

But this time I have him.  He starts to shoot.  He tries to pull it from my mouth, but I wrest it from him.  His semen is bitter.  But it’s a huge load. 

I jerk frantically as he coats my throat.  Fuck, yes!  I shoot on his bare feet, webbing his toes…


Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Canada--Sunday Night at Steamworks

Toronto—August, 2012

I have finished the exhausting and time consuming summer job.   I took my Dad to several medical appointments we’d put off over the summer, then I escaped for my annual trip to Canada.  I visit a major arts festival for a good portion of the week each year, but I always leave time before or after I arrive for a trip to Toronto.  This year, it’s before.   I know I have a large portion of my summer to chronicle, (not that I had time to play that often), but I’ve decided to write up this trip within days or maybe moments after it’s happened.   And with the bathhouse action of Sunday night, getting it down right now is wise.

I checked into my favorite bathhouse in Toronto at 8:30pm.  I knew it was early, but it was Sunday.   I had a hunch guys would be leaving early for Monday morning work.  And I was right.

 I wind my way through the maze of rooms.  The numbering system seems to have little rhyme or reason.  I finally find my room.  I struggle into my cockring, my cock is already beginning to swell, just thinking of ass.  I change into a clean jock.  Add a wrist band to my left wrist.  Combat boots back on, and I’m ready.

I turn left.  The sling room is right there—through a curtained entrance.  How convenient.  It’s empty, but there seems to be a hot butt on the fuck bench.  I can see little about him—young, smooth body, his face is buried in his towel and he seems to need a good fucking.  I put my water bottle under the bench and lean in.  My tongue connects with his hot, moist hole.  He jumps—I haven’t touched him to let him know I’m there.  I reach up and spread his cheeks.  I eat ass as if I haven’t had any for months—not quite true, but for a couple of weeks for sure.  He’s breathing hard--and moaning loud enough to attract four or five guys to the open doorway.   I’ve lubed my cock as I lick and spit into him. I rise up and let it rest on his ass cheeks.  I give him a chance to tell me to rubber up, but instead he grunts out “Fuck me.”

I am in him.  He instantly rears up, all but pulling me out of him.  I roughly push him down again.  I pull all the way out.  He hits his poppers and I re-enter.  “Oh, fuck that’s good,” he groans.  I pound him.  I take out all my frustration with the traffic in the long drive there.  My balls noisily slap his ass.  He groans into his towel.

I slow, pull out, taste his hole again and then re-enter.  He arches up again and asks for a break.  I slip out and he thanks me.

One of the onlookers has gotten into the sling.  I go over.  He smiles up at me.  In the red light over the sling, he could be anywhere from 28 to 42.  He appears to be some sort of Hispanic mix—slight of body with a pronounced nose and a rampant dick with a generous foreskin.  His cock is drooling, and he is beating it furiously.

“You want this cock up you--straight from his ass?”  I ask him.
He nods.

I kneel and begin eating his hole out.  He squirms and slaps the top of my head with his cock.  I move up to his balls, then slide my tongue all the way back down to his pucker.  I do it again, but this time include a quick swirl of his cock head, collecting some of his precum. 

I rise.  A crowd is watching us.  A built Black man is now behind the sling, twisting the sling guy’s nipples.  To my left a young white boy is stroking a sizable cock.  To my right, a short Asian is on his knees servicing a large bear, who occasionally runs a hand over the belly of the man in the sling.  I enter.  I sink home.  No need of poppers to open his hole, his ass just swallows me up in one long glide.  I rest for a fraction of a second, then pull almost all the way out and slide in again.  I watch his face contort in pleasure.  I am soon fucking him hard and fast.  His eyes never leave my face.

When I need to pause, I pull out and taste his hole.  It’s wet with my copious precumming.  I rise and look at the young white guy beating his meat.  “You want to try his hole?”

He nods, and to my surprise, slips his cock right in, raw and drooling.  He is long, but not thick.  It’s a welcome break for the fuckee.  I kneel by the side of the sling, gnawing on his nipple.  His arm holds me in place, locked around my head in wrestler’s grip.  The boy batters his ass.  I think he may cum, but he pulls out without shooting.  I dive for his cock and clean it.  He looks at me in admiration and moves off.  Tasting the ass on his cock makes me super hard.  I rise and am fucking him again.  The bear has cum down the Asian’s throat.  A hot otter in his 30’s is there with a great looking cock.  He watches me fuck intently.  I grin at him and gesture to the ass I’m fucking—an open invite.

He nods and replaces me.  He slips in and really pounds the man.  Chains rattle.  I stand to the side and work both his nipples with my fingers.  The otter slows and pulls out.  He’s seen me with the other boy—he presents his cock for me to clean.  I get on my knees and lick, making sure I get between his head and his foreskin.

I rise and enter.  The man in the sling looks up at me with what?—Wonder?--He is in his own Treasure Island video.  He is beating like crazy.  I know it can’t last.  He shoots as I drive myself home.  His arc of semen hits just below his left nipple.  I mop it up with my fingers and feed it to him, as I slowly pull out.  He cleans my finger.  I help out of the sling.  We hug and he staggers away to the showers.
I wander.

I have some adequate head in a dark room.

 As I leave it, a hot 50-something runs his hand over my semi-hard cock which is sticking half out of my jock.  He’s gym built, but not recently.  Silver at the temples and a round, firm ass.

“Come back to my room.”  He tugs on my cock.  I follow.

 He has a double bed room. 

 “Do you rim?” 
I don’t answer, I just push him down on all fours and dive in.  He moans and reaches back with one hand to help me part his firm ass.  I rise and spit on his hole.  I smear it around with my cock head.  I enter him.  He takes a hit of poppers and passes them to me.  I take a hit.  They are strong.  I am fucking him as hard as I can. 

And without warning, I cum.  I can’t believe it.  I usually go hours before I drop a load.  He’s thrilled that I creamed his ass and tells me to find him again.

I go to my room and sleep.

It’s an hour later.  I have woken up.  Hard and eager for more.  I open the door.  A cute enough cub is right there.  He sets down his towel, laden with stuff.  He sucks me with no real enthusiasm, but more out of a sense of duty.  I stop him and lick his ass.  He hands me a rubber from his towel.  I give it back to him and pull out my own Magnum.  I over lube and try to enter.  Eventually I get in.  He is gasping and telling me how good it is.  After all the raw sex, I am feeling nothing.  Literally nothing.  I tell him I need to stop.  I peel the rubber off and toss it away as he gathers his 8 different brands of condoms (none of them large) and all the free lube he’s collected.

The sling is empty.  The boy is back on the fuck bench.  It’s a total repeat of our first encounter.

I make the rounds of rooms.  I have a huge selection of ass to choose from.  I finally pick a hole that looks shiny with lube or cum.  It’s gaping just slightly.  The man is slightly younger than me, dark hair, likely Hispanic.  I linger at the door.  My cock clearly visible in my jock, my towel slung over my shoulder.  I’m invited in.  I clamber up on the bed.  His ass is elevated by the pillow.  I lean forward and taste.  I am pretty sure it’s cum.  I lap and swallow.  I rear up and slip my cock in him. 

“Fuck yeah.  Churn the two loads I have up there.”
I do.  I pull out, bringing some of the cum with me.  I lap it up.  Guys crowd into the room.  He gestures for me to shut the door.  I get up and do.  “It’s good seeing you again.”  I look down as he’s turning 90 degrees on the bed, so I can kneel on the floor to eat him out.  I hadn’t seen all of his face before.  It’s the guy I christened Cowboy Boots at my first Cum-Union party and who I later played with again in Detroit.  We chat.

Then it’s back to some serious fucking.  And eating all the cum my cock pulls out of his remarkable ass. 

Finally, we agree to open the door to see if we can find another guy to seed him.  I do.  And slip back in.  A young guy comes in to jerk.

And I shoot again.  

 I sleep another hour.

I check back with Cowboy Boots.   “No more loads, but a couple of guys pushed yours up deep.”

I accept the challenge to try to get them out.  I fuck and slurp my remains.

 A handsome young Black man steps into the room.  “You eating out my load?”  he asks. 

I nod—telling him it’s been mixed with mine.  He cock swells and I let him into Cowboy Boots’ ass.  He fucks.  I clean his slippery cock and spit it back on the hole.  It’s my turn to fuck.  The Black man strokes, eyes intent on my disappearing cock.

“I have to cum!” 

 I step aside.  He just makes it into the hole before he unloads.  I clean up his fresh load off his cock.  I lovingly clean up the ass.  I fuck.

 It’s my turn to shoot.  I am in shock.  I shoot my third load of night in about 4 hours.

 Cowboy Boots hugs me and tells me I better tell all my readers about it.

I think I just have…

Monday, August 27, 2012


I am on a vacation. 
 I decided to start posting my Canadian sex on the spot.
I had an hours worth of my first bathhouse recorded....
and it vanished into the ether.
I am pissed as fuck.
I guess I'll be redoing it in the morning...

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Bookstore Safari

Near Home--June, 2012

We met online.  It’s early June--work hasn’t mushroomed out of control yet, but I’ve lost the use of my playroom for the summer.  (It’s had to become a bedroom again.  And it makes me smile every time I think about the straight couple bedding down in there on that well used bed.)  This guy online is hot for my cock, but he can’t host either.  What to do?

 “We could meet at the bookstore,” I suggest.  “Would you like to get fucked in front of other guys?”  He loves the idea.  Then he’s nervous.  But he’ll be there.  We agree to meet at 8pm.  I tell him to make sure he goes into the theatre not the arcade—two people barely fit in the arcade booths—certainly not much room to fuck.  I describe the theatre—all 13 seats of it.  I suggest we take the back row, where a seat is missing and I’ll have lots of room to maneuver as he leans over the seat in front.  I tell him I’ll be in my army issue shirt and black 501’s.  He’s excited.  He’s scared.  I wonder if he’ll show…

The door buzzes.  I push and enter.  Barely.  It’s dark.  And a crowd is right at the door.  Likely I’ve interrupted a blow job in the corner behind the door.  I push in a little more.  Yeah, two guys are pulling clothes together.  It’s too dark to see anything about them.  I grope along the wall which is barely lit by the TV screen.  It’s auteur porn showing.  The Director/Videographer is talking to the barely 18 year old girl from behind his camera.  Soon she’s sucking his cock…..all from his point of view—we never see his face or full body. 

 My eyes adjust.  He’s there.  Sitting in the farthest of the three seats in the back row.  He’s Germanic, with a high forehead and a close crop of what blond hair he has left.  He’s in an A-shirt that gleams in the gloom and jeans.  His arms look like he’s been pouring concrete all day—big, thick and muscled.  He glances around nervously.  He looks at me, trying to decide if it’s me.  I step towards him.  He smiles sheepishly and I sit next to him. 

His hands are on my bulge.  He kneads me.  My cock responds.  He’s being very careful not to do anything overt.  I smile at him and look at the men in the room.  There are two older men in the front row.  I know them—regulars who are always on the edge of any action.

 He opens the buttons on my jeans as I look around to the door.  The two guys I interrupted must have moved back into the corner, out of my range of sight.  Two other guys lean against the wall—both younger, in shorts and t-shirts, one in sandals and other in flip flops.

 He pulls out my cock.  “You’re sure it’s ok?”  I nod.  “If a cop….”   He leaves it unfinished.  I don’t tell him, that the only cop I’ve ever seen here shot a huge load down my throat.  I place a hand on the back of his head.  Just steady pressure—urging him to go down on me.

 “Fuck.  That’s nice.”  His last words before his mouth engulfs my dick.  He’s pretty good, but the angle is bad.  I lean over and whisper in his ear, telling him to get on the floor.  He tries, but he can’t fit.  He crawls back up into his seat.  I stand and, with my erect dick swaying, move in front of him and stuff it in his mouth.

 The boys on the side wall are now watching us.

 He’s mortified.  And delighted.  I fuck his face.  Angle is everything--and now he is really making me feel good.   He opens his own fly to stroke as he swallows me down.

 I want his ass.  I have promised him a long rim job since he swears he’s tight.

 “Come on,” I tell him.  “I want to taste your hole.”  He just stares at me.  The reality of doing it in front of these guys is sinking in.  He looks at me.  I just nod. 

 And wait.

Finally, he rises, and stepping into the seatless area, jerks his trousers and underwear down with one swift motion.  I get up into the seatless area as well.   I push him forward, bending him over the seat in front of him.  No one is in the middle row.  I kneel behind him.  His ass cheeks glow white--they are brushed with blond down, but I can only tell that from the feel of them on my face.  His hole is hairy and smells of soap.  And a little fear-induced sweat.  I lap it away.  He’s responding.  Even groaning softly as I rim.  One of the 30 year olds comes into the middle row and gets out his cock.  My partner—what the fuck is his name??!!—looks at me over his shoulder in panic.  I look up and nod.  The guy just strokes near his face, he won’t let him suck it.

 I go back to eating.  His hole is opening.  I really want to sink my cock in him.  I stand up.

 “Remember the Magnum,” he hisses.  I sink back down and eat some more.  I fish in my pocket and find the foil packet.  I roll it on as my tongue sinks as deep as possible up him.  I open my lube as I rim and pour it on liberally.

 And I’m up him.  He reaches back to make sure I have it on—not believing I can do it so surreptitiously.  It’s a contract, dude.  I’ll honor it. 

 His ass is tight.  It even feels pretty good through the latex.  What’s better is having all 6 guys watch us.  The two in the front row, make no attempt to watch the screen with a live fuck going on behind them.  The two from the corner have moved out into sight now, and the other young guy has joined the stroker.  Soon he’s actually going down on the stroker, pissing off my boy who really wanted one of them in his mouth as I fucked.

 And the door buzzes.  He starts to get up.  I push him back.  And in walks a hetro couple.  Fuck—it’s couple’s night here on Saturdays.  The suckers separate like a lightning bolt came between them.  The guys in the front row rise and mutely offer their seats. 

 The man and woman are in their 50’s, well dressed and looking for something naughty.  He’s a little drunk.  She nods to the men and starts to the front row….then hears my hips slapping on bare ass.  She stops.  Her eyes have adjusted just enough.  She gestures towards us, and in a voice I’m sure she thinks is a whisper, says “George.  Look.  Gays.”  And she stands watching me long dick my hairy piece of ass. 

 My boy turns his face away from them to the wall.  His look pleads with me to stop.  But I’ll have none of it.  I fuck.  Harder and louder.  I even slap his ass.  She’s transfixed—watching this alien species as they rut.  What luck to catch such wild game on their urban safari.

 Finally she pulls her husband along to the front row.  I slow and eventually pull out.  My man grabs for his jeans and sits down quickly.  My cock juts forward, as hard as ever, as I roll the latex off.  She glances back.

 Her whisper carries right to us.  “My.  He’s a big one…”

 My partner sinks into his seat, wishing the floor would open. 

 I just smile.